One of the most joyous experiences for me this year was being reunited with my Seniors Village Choristers after evacuation. We had been away from each other for nearly two months.
We all just beamed at each other, hugged, laughed and told stories. It was so wonderful to get caught up!
In between hugging and stories we sang all our favourite tunes, like Sweet Violets, Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree, He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands and Let’s Go Fly a Kite.
I was so happy to see them, I nearly sprained a cheekbone smiling. Trying to sing while smiling that big might stretch your vowels and your countenance, and make you sound like you have a murky, unidentifiable accent, but it certainly does good for the heart.
They’re funny and warm and joyous. They play kazoos with me! They let me talk them into musical shenanigans without blinking an eye.
Once we were talking about how the cadence, or lilt, of a song has an enormous impact on the lyrics. “Let’s try something,” I said, and they all grinned. “Let’s sing the first verse of Oh Lonesome Me really, really slowly and see how it changes the feel of the song.”
It took us a few tries to do it with a straight face, but they really got into it. “Everybody’s going out and having fun,” they warbled slow as paint drying, with woebegone expressions, sagging exaggeratedly in their wheelchairs. “I’m just a fool for staying home and having none,” they sighed softly, and even faked wiping a tear. “Ooooooooooh, lonesome meeeeeeee.”
Then we clicked into a lively tempo, ukulele twanging away, for the second verse, and they all popped upright in their seats, laughing, like a faith healing.
Music is such an astounding connection between people, and this group is connected to my bone marrow.
Being reunited with them made me realize all over again that you have no idea what tomorrow will bring, and that every moment you get to spend together is a gift indeed.
